


amare il nemico

by bleedingpens



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - Mob, Eventual Smut, F/M, Italian Mafia, Italian Slang, M/M, Past Abuse, Suits, this came to be in a dream honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingpens/pseuds/bleedingpens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>to love his own is heaven; to love his enemy is hell.</p>
<p>or, the one where louis inherits his father's gang and falls in love with the boy with the green eyes and the pretty curls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. rinato

Louis' father died on a Sunday, God's day, in his own bed. It was raining outside, and it was 1959. 

"Mark Tomlinson," His grave stone would read. " _Che la sua anima riposi per sempre._ " 

Let your soul rest forever. 

Louis didn't cry. He wore a custom tailored suit and held an umbrella for his sister as they watched their father be lowered into the ground, but he didn't cry. Men didn't cry. Especially men who were the Don of the Tomlinson family. 

" _Il mio signore,_ " Various capos would mutter as they kissed his rings, heads bent. "I am so sorry." Louis didn't care if they were sorry or not. He wasn't to care about much anymore. 

It was Liam who spoke the truth. "This is awful." 

"Yeah," Louis sighed around an exhale of smoke. "It is." 

Within hours of his father's burial, Louis was handed his father's six inch revolver. It was silver, and cold in Louis' hands. Louis wanted to cry then, but he kept his lower lip firm. He didn't cry until that night, when his door was locked and he was under his blankets, deep heaving sobs into his pillow. The revolver was on his desk. 

* * *

"Louis. Louis, wake up, mate. It's half past 9." 

Louis pretended not to hear the warm voice of his best friend, Liam, and rolled over. There was a heavy sigh and a tapped foot. 

"The world doesn't wait for Prince Louis to open up his doe eyes and greet the birds, you knob. Get the fuck up." Liam's fingers prodded his side. 

"I'm your boss," Louis mumbled into the crook of his elbow. "And your boss says to let me sleep. It's too damned early." He heard another sigh and a paused silent before the weight of his sheets were removed. 

"Liam!" Louis protested, curling his legs to his chest. "Now I'm cold. You've ruined everything." Liam snorted and walked over to the windows on the opposing wall, throwing open the black curtains to reveal the New York skyline. 

"You have to meet with the Commissioner in an hour," Liam said, opening Louis' closet. "I'm feeling navy, what about you?"

"I'm feeling like sleeping." 

Liam ignored him and withdrew a navy jacket from the closet. "Hannah will be here in a moment to help you get dressed. Be nice. I'll have a cuppa for you when you come downstairs." Louis mumbled to himself as he sat up and knuckled his eyes. "And please be presentable in thirty minutes. I don't want to lose a finger on account of your lazy arse." 

"Love you too, Liam." Louis said, stretching and finally rising from the bed. Liam was the Consigliere of the Tomlinson family, and had been Louis' best mate since they were kids. Liam was the kindest soul on Earth, Louis was sure of it. Liam, who was only three years younger than Louis, acted ages older than Louis, but as did most people.

As he made his way over to his drawers, he passed his desk and his eyes caught glimpse of his fathers revolver. It lay untouched since the moment it had been placed there three months ago. He made a move to touch it, his fingertips only grazing the outer barrel. His fingers flinched away like they had been burned. 

His chest felt heavy as he turned away from the revolver and the desk as he faced the mirror. He had lost weight in the last months, he realized, as he turned and let his fingers slide over his ribcage. 

"Good morning,  _mi signore_." A mild voice quipped from the doorway. "Admiring ourselves, are we?" 

"Always, love." Louis turned from his mirror and greeted the girl in the doorway with his most winning smile. She set her cup of coffee on the nightstand and frowned at the pile of sheets on the floor.

"Just what happened to your bed?" She scoffed lightly and drew the satin pieces into her arms before dumping them on the bed. "I swear, it's always something with you." 

"Liam." Louis said. Hannah raised an eyebrow at him, and he felt his cheeks flush. "Not like that." 

"No, of course not." She said lightly. "Why would anyone want to tussle in the sheets with that boy anyways? Now, you've got a meeting to attend, and I'll be damned if you don't look your very best." 

Ten minutes later, he was striding out of the room in a navy three piece suit. His collar was unbuttoned to show the family crest that lay atop his heart, and his fingers glittered with rings. He was handed a cane made of dark, hard oak, and as his fingers fitted around the eagles head at it's top, he found himself gulping for air. Hannah's comment had stuck into the front of his brain. Did she know? 

Louis was gay, much to his family's chagrin. It was a secret, an intense one. The Tomlinson's would lose all respect if they had produced a son that was...like  _that_. 

"You alrigh', sir?" Niall, one of Louis'  _soldatos_ , said as he fell into flank behind him. "You seem a lil' pale."

"I'm fine, Mister Horan. But thank you for your concern." Louis said shortly, keeping his eyes ahead as he descended the stairs. He passed the portraits of the generations of the Tomlinson family, and tried to shake the feeling that their eyes were watching him.

Liam was by the door, checking his watch and tapping his foot. It seemed that every time Louis was involved, Liam's foot was tapping the floor. 

"Took you long enough," Liam said, straightening up and checking his watch again. "We need to go." 

"I haven't had any breakfast, Liam. Give a man a chance to enjoy his morning." Louis tried to detour to the kitchen, but Liam stopped him. 

"If you had woken up the first time, you could've enjoyed the breakfast Niall prepared. It was quite good, wasn't it, Niall?" 

Niall's cheeks coloured. "Erm, well, I suppose so. It was me mum's recipe really, from Northern Ireland-" 

"Right." Liam said. "See, it was Irish. That's what happens when you sleep like a dog. Hannah will bring you some toast. Now get your whiny ass in the car before I put it there!" 

* * *

"I don't understand why we have to do this," Louis quipped from the backseat of the car. A piece of toast was partway in his mouth. "It's not like he ever listens to us anyways." 

"That's not how an infamous Don of the Tomlinson family speaks." Liam replied from the front seat. "Did you remember your gun this time?"

"Oh," Louis said after swallowing his mouthful of toast. "Must've forgotten it." 

"Louis," Liam sighed and pressed his fingers to the sides of his nose. "Fine. You can take one of Niall's. We can't send you in unarmed." Niall slid one of his three Glock handguns across the seat, and Louis stowed it in the holster at his waist. "Honestly, I don't know why you refuse to use it. It's a bloody revolver, for God's sake, and your fathers nonetheless-" 

"I know, Liam." Louis said shortly. "Can we move on, please?" The car was beginning to feel too small, and Louis just wanted them to get to the damned place so he could get the meeting over with.

"Right. We'll arrive, the  _soldatos_ -that means you and the others, Niall-enter, I enter, then you follow right behind, take your seat, etcetera." Liam went on to explain the technicalities of the whole thing, but Louis preferred not to listen. He finished off the rest of his toast instead. 

"Louis, are you listening to me?" Liam's pen smacked into Louis' nose. "I don't know why I bother with you, I should just quit, honestly-" 

"Of course I'm listening, Liam dearest, as I do love the sound of your lovely voice badgering me every second of my life." Louis grinned and hooked one arm behind his head. "Relax, Payno, this'll only take a moment, then we can return to the manor scot-free and hopefully a little richer." 

"Not to interrupt the bickering, sirs, but we've arrived." Niall said, pointing out the window. They had stopped in front of an old Victorian apartment building in the lower part of East Brooklyn. 

"Wasn't DeCapio killed here last summer?" Louis stepped out into the sunlight, squinting up at the brick framework. "Yeah, I think he was. Sixth floor." 

"Lovely, Louis." Liam adjusted his own tie and jacket. "Now, don't be a smart-ass. We need this guy on our side, okay?"

"Right, right. Get in and get the job done." Louis said sarcastically. "You sound like my father." 

"Your father was a great man." 

Louis laughed without much humour. "Right. Having a nice listen, Niall?"

Niall went red and dropped his chin. "Much apologies,  _signore."_

"I'm only havin' a laugh, Horan, lighten up!" Louis clapped him on the shoulders. "Now, let's make some money." 

"Look, look at you!" The Commissioner boomed as Louis entered, his arms outstretched. "Just a moment ago, were you not a boy playing in your fathers yard? Come, let me look at you close!" He kissed both of Louis' cheeks and held his shoulders, looking him up and down. "Such a strong frame! I ask you, how is your mother?" The man's accent was thick, like his mustache, and his belly protruded from his shirt like a swollen watermelon. His breath was stale. "She is good, yes? So sad what happen to your father, so sad. I myself could not make the service, you see, too many rats in the sewers that had to be cleaned up." He laughed as if he had just shared an inside joke with Louis. "Sit down, sit down!" He grandly gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Louis sat in the chair and folded his legs, letting his cane rest on the left arm of the seat. Two men stood outside the door, two men at the entrance of the building, and two men stood in the room. Liam was seated as well, next to Louis, if not slightly behind. The man poured two glasses of liquor from a rather expensive looking bottle and slid one to Louis. 

"It's nice to see you as well, sir." Louis said politely. "Thank you for welcoming me so graciously."

"Look at this, you calling me sir as if you are below me! You are Don Tomlinson, of the great family! Why, I was a lowly _soldato_ myself when your great-grandfather started this mafia, yes-"

"Right." Louis said with a wry smile. "I understand you have some news for me." 

"Yes, yes, right, business it is." The Commissioner folded his hands on top of his large stomach and leaned back into his chair. "You, as you know, head one of the most powerful families on the East Coast. Your father, he was a virtuous man who held no rivalries with the wrong people. You know what I mean?" His stubby fingers-which were smudged with ash, Louis noticed-traced their way into his suit pocket to withdraw a cigar. "You smoke, my son?" 

"Not those." Louis said, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand while taking a sip of the liquor. Brandy. Louis hated brandy. "The news, Commissioner." 

"Very straight-forward! I like it." The man took a puff off of his fat cigar and blew the smoke, annoyingly, in Louis' direction. "I will be straight-forward as well. You are being watched." 

"Of course we are. It's the fucking  _mafia_." Louis said bitterly. Liam cleared his throat and shot him a warning look. Louis took a deep breath and tried again in a more even tone. "What do you mean?" 

"The  _policia_ is the least of your problems, boy. The Malik family is at the top of your list." The Commissioner smoothed his shirtfront and continued amiably. "My role is to be unbiased, impartial, able to work with all sides of the mafia circuit to ensure, ah, fair play. But Don Malik, an influential man, has offered me quite the sum to make sure you do not make it out of this door." The members in the room visibly stiffened, but Louis remained composed. 

"That's a shame, really." Louis said after a moment of silence. "It truly is. I was beginning to like you, and your God-awful brandy." Louis stood and straightened his coat. "We're done here, I think, boys. Shall we?" His fingers folded over the head of his cane as he turned his back on the man to face the door.

"I can't let you do that,  _mi signore_." The Commissioner rose and puffed at his cigarette. "Don Malik was very, ah, how do you say it...persistent." There was a sound of a slide of a bullet into a chamber, and a click. "Much apologies to the family." 

Louis didn't spare a second. He whipped himself around, chest first, and landed his cane across the jaw of the Commissioner with a  _thwack._ The man's head snapped to the left with an audible crack as blood spattered the white wallpaper. The cane came down against the back of his head while Louis' knee folded itself under his chin. Louis heard the heinous sound of the Commissioners teeth slicing through his own tongue. 

The Commissioner fell forward with a moan, garbled through a mouthful of blood and tissue. As a slice of his tongue fell to the floor, Louis wiped his hands on his kerchief. 

"Now," Louis squatted and grabbed a handful of the man's greasy hair and regards him disinterestedly. "Let me be perfectly clear. If Don Malik has something to discuss, he can discuss it with me personally, not through a fat fuck like you. If you try and hurt me, or my family again, it'll be more than your tongue that comes off, yeah?" Louis releases his hair, watching the man's face crash into the floor. "Also, your brandy is terrible. And your suit is cheap. Boys?" 

Liam scrambles to his feet and jerks his chin to signal the other men to leave. Louis surveys the room and takes a final sip out of the glass on the desk. 

"Yeah, terrible." He drops the glass, and turns as it shatters. "Don't look at me in such awe, Payne. Someone might think you're in love with me." 

* * *

 

"His _tongue_?" Niall whooped and slammed his hand on the table. "Tha's brilliant! Woulda never thought to do that meself, honestly, woulda just shot the fuck where he stood." 

"I prefer the personal route," Louis said carelessly, watching Liam return with the beers he had ordered. "Much more fun. Thank you for your praise, Niall. It's much appreciated."

"His tongue...Amazin'..." Niall murmured to himself. Liam sat down and distributed the beers, taking a long swallow before clearing his throat.

"So, we can all admit _signores_ performance was eventful, however stupid it was." 

"Stupid?" Louis snorted. "The only thing stupid about that whole deal was that the fuck actually thought he was going to get away with  _killing me_. Without even serving me good alcohol beforehand! The nerve of some people, honestly." 

Niall, Liam, and Louis were seated in the middle of a bar in East Brooklyn. The rest of the guard had been dismissed, much to Liam's protest, but Louis had insisted. He hated being flanked all of the time. 

"Nerve or not, you should've waited. We needed more information." Liam said irritatedly. 

"I don't know if you quite noticed, Payno, but the man was pointing a fuckin' magnum at the back of my head." 

"You acted impulsively." Liam folded his arms. "And now we've got the Malik's after us. That's bad, Lou." 

"It's fine." Louis waved a hand. "They're nothing but a lot of Pakistani rich boys. I heard that Don, Zayn, is a prick. Daddy died and left him all his money, so poor Zayn-y had to be a big mob boss in the scary big America!"  

"That's exactly how you got to be Don of this family, you absolute knob." 

Louis paused. "But I was dignified about it." 

"All of that absolutely useless horse crap aside, he's still after you. And his father ran the largest armistice in the Western hemisphere. Something that your father, however great, did  _not_ do." Liam took a long pull from his glass. "And the fact that the Commissioner was on Malik's side is not a good sign, Louis." 

"None of it matters." Louis said irritatedly. "I don't give a fuck." 

"I give a fuck." Niall said hopefully, before being shot down with a glare from Louis. "Sorry." 

"Let the devil take care of him," Louis said, finishing his beer and straightening his jacket. "Nothing we can do about it. Boys, I think it's time we head back, yes?" 

Liam said nothing, but glared into the bottom of his glass. Niall was quick to his feet, his blonde hair curling against his forehead in the late afternoon humidity. 

"There's a match on," Niall said after a moment. "We could watch that when we get back to the house, sir, if ya'd like that."

"Wonderful idea, Mr. Horan." Louis clapped him on the shoulder. "Lead the way." 

* * *

 


	2. fulmine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for lack of updating--high school ended, college began, and alas writing took a turn for the worst. let's try this again, yeah? xx

Louis had woken up early the next morning, which was odd, considering his love of sleep. To this day, he had always wondered what would have happened if he had stayed inside his bed for longer. The only answer he can come up with is less pain. 

He was showered and dressed before anyone had a chance to knock on his door, and he passed Liam with a quipped "Morning!", taking the cuppa from his hands. "Nice weather, isn't it?" 

"You're in a chipper mood," Liam said suspiciously once he had made himself another cup of tea downstairs in the kitchen. "Finally got a proper lay, did you?" 

"You're funny, Payno, really," Louis was leaning against the marble counter, Liam's previous cup interlaced between his fingers. "Ever consider being a comedian? I think you're quite cut out for it." 

"It'd probably pay more." Louis glared at Liam over the brim of his cup as he took another long drink of the bitter tea. 

"It's disgusting that you take your tea black," Louis declared after he had swallowed. "And I resent you every day for it. What's on the agenda this morning? God, I feel like a stiff-arsed CEO. Only, I sell drugs, instead of whatever the fuck CEOs sell." 

Liam sent him a weird look before gesturing to the files on the tabletop. "That's the newest thing to deal with. There's also a large, large shipment coming in from South Africa that's going to need checking, unless you trust Horan to do it himself." 

"It's not a matter of trust, Liam," Louis walked to the table and flipped open a file, leaning over to view it closer. "Consider it a liability we cannot afford to take." The file was full of scribbled letters, notes, and old photographs of people Louis didn't recognize, nor quite care to know, considering the photos that fell out of the underside of the file. "Gross, Liam, I didn't need to see this mess so early in the morning." 

"Malik got a hold of two of our customers last night, apparently unhappy with their business interactions with our family. Some of our guys on the street say they used to be customers of his. Guess he didn't like them goin' to the competitor." Liam regarded the bloody photos over Louis's shoulder. "Gruesome, innit." 

Louis looked closer at them. "Hm. He's very precise." It was true. Louis might have been impressed, if he didn't hate the bastard so much.

"The written bits are transcripts and receipts of past interactions between Malik and the late customers," Liam tapped them with his forefinger. "They were left there. We, meaning I, paid a large sum to keep this off the cops radar." 

"Mm." Louis rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I love it when you spend my money. Do it more often, won't you? Just buy the whole damned city at this point." 

Liam pushed all of the papers back into the file. "We have to be at the dock in thirty minutes. I think scones are in order before hand. I'll get the car." 

Louis set his cup down, watching Liam bustle out the door in a whirlwind of barked orders and shouted demands. Liam was very good at shouting, but that was because he had to maintain a brutal appearance to be taken serious. Louis's  _soldatos_ , they knew Louis didn't fuck around. He was cutthroat. Straightening his jacket and tie, he made his way to the door and curled his fingers over the cane held out to him by Niall. 

"Morning, Mister Horan," Louis lipped, smiling at him as he adjusted his sunglasses on his face. "Have a good evening?" 

"Good morning, sir," Niall said gruffly, tightening the straps of his gun holster. "It was alrigh', yeah."

"Liam, start spending more time with Niall," Louis directed as he stepped into the low back seat of the sleek black car. "His evenings have only been alright. I expect them phenomenal from now on."

"Yes, sir." Liam said dully, rolling his eyes. Niall chuckled as he set to cleaning his knife. The car ride was quiet save for the gentle tread of tire against the New York Streets. The sunlight was strangely radiant for October, and Louis was reminded of the leaf piles he used to jump around in when he was a child. The colours stuck out the most, the reds and oranges and golds, and the delightful sounds of the leaves crunching under his boots as he walked to the park with his sisters. That was until Louis's father decided he was too old for such games, and had forbidden him from playing in the piles anymore, of course. Louis could still picture his younger self, unruly hair tucked under a wool cap as he kicked at the leaves and laughed in delight as they scattered through the air. He vaguely wonders where that boy went. 

"Pull over here." Liam orders the driver. 

"You weren't kidding about those scones, were you, Payne? Christ." Louis laughed from the backseat, glancing out the window at the bakery window. "You and your sweets."

"If you're so above it, don't come with, and I'll eat all the pumpkin myself." Liam said before lifting himself out of the car. "Want anything, Niall?"

"M'alright." Niall mused, eyes focused on the girl sitting adjacent to the bakery. "The view is plenty fine from here." 

* * *

The bakery was warm and smelled fantastic, like fresh bread and cinnamon. Louis undid his coat buttons and followed Liam to the queue at the register. The place was pretty empty, with only a few tables occupied by students pouring over books. Most people had looked up when the bell dinged to signal an entering customer, but looked quickly away when they saw it was Louis. One girl in cat-eye glasses seemed to be clutching to her book for dear life. 

"Be with you in a moment!" A disembodied voice shouted from the kitchen window. A tray of loaves were pushed through the window onto the waiting counter by two slender hands. Louis looked around for any employees, and saw none. It seemed as though whoever was speaking was the only one working. 

"Hi," The voice sounded again, slightly breathy, as it's owner rounded the corner. "What can I get you?" Liam began to order, but Louis heard none of it, because he was looking at the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. A disheveled mop of dark curls swept across his forehead, slightly powdered with flour. In fact, he was covered in it. There was even some on the tip of his nose. Full lips paired with lengthy cheekbones under clear-set hazel eyes, and the blush of his cheeks was unmistakeable, even under the flour. Louis could feel warmth settling in his chest, and he knew: he _had_  to have him. 

"I think I'll have a pumpkin scone," Louis said, leaning against his elbows on the high countertop. "Would you suggest them?" 

The boy busied himself with handing Liam his change, dropping two pennies as he did so. Louis swooped a hand in and picked them up right as the boy went to collect them. Louis's fingers brushed his palm as he dropped the pennies into them. "There you go." 

"Thank you," The boy's flour-dusted cheeks pinkened slightly. "Er, the pumpkin is quite nice. I mean, I do make them. But, but the cinnamon is my favourite."

"Not too spicy, is it?" Louis flicked his eyes upwards to meet the boy's. "I like mine nice and sweet." He let his accent click the T on the word, grinning slightly. The boy seemed at a loss for words. 

"Sometime today, Tommo." Liam called from the doorway, two small paper bags in his hands.

"One cinnamon scone, please, then." Louis withdrew his wallet from his coat and watched the boy's slender hands pick up a scone and carefully drop it in the bag on the counter. 

"Fifty cents, please." 

Louis pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the boy, who stared at it. "Do you have a tip jar?" 

"Th-There." The boy stammered before clearing his throat and straightening out. "There, sir." 

Oh, sir. Louis could get used to hearing that. He put the bill in the jar before handing two quarters over the counter and collecting his bag. "There we are. What's your name, love?" 

"Harry. Harry Styles." 

"Have a wonderful day, Harry Styles." Louis tipped his hat at Harry before strolling past Liam with a wicked grin thrown over his shoulder. 

* * *

Louis started going to the bakery every morning. He would walk in and order a pastry and a cup of tea-never coffee, he didn't drink  _bean water-_ and tip a ridiculous amount of money. Liam thought it was crazy, but what did he know anyway? Louis was the most powerful man in New York. He could afford some time to eat a pastry and flirt with the bakery boy. It was only fair. Justice, really. 

"You know, we serve things other than pastries and tea, Mr. Tomlinson." Harry said as he kneaded bread behind the counter. Louis watched his shoulders roll and flex as he pressed his knuckles into the powdery dough. "I mean, not that my pastries and tea aren't worth an every day visit." He lifted the dough and dropped it, causing a puff of flour to land on his apron. 

"I'm a man of routine, love," Louis said around a mouthful of raspberry muffin- _It was supposed to have an orange zest, but the market was out! Of ORANGES! In December, really!_ \- as he flicked his eyes over the Times laid out in front of him. "If this is another one of your sideline ways to get me to drink your bean water, I'd reconsider that tactic. It'll take a lot more than passive aggressive suggestion to get me to drink something as disgusting as that." 

Harry giggled, a few curls falling from the bandana he kept tied securely around his head as he did so. Kneading the dough, his pink tongue slipped out slightly from his lips. Louis marveled at him, chewing slowly. "It's honestly not that bad, Mr. Tomlinson. You should try new things." 

He, in fact, did try new things. He tried out a new torture technique last night that involved fingernails and very sharp splinters of wood. Worked wonders. "How many times have I told you to call me Louis, Harry? Really, you should try it." He bit into the other half of his muffin, mumbling to himself. "New things, my arse." 

Harry leveled out the dough onto a pan and began squishing it into a loaf. He prodded at the sides with his slender fingers, stroking the dough into the shape he wanted. "Whatever you say,  _Mister Tom-lin-son_." Harry grinned at him cheekily, his dimples peeking through the flour. 

Louis was just about to respond when the bell chimed above the door, signaling someone had entered. Liam came rushing in, cheeks tinged red from the cold, and he scanned the bakery until his eyes met Louis. He looked bothered. 

"'Lo, Mr. Payne. The usual?" Harry was oblivious to Liam's discomfort. "Glad you appreciate my coffee, unlike your ungrateful friend." 

"Sorry, not today, Harry," He said quickly, shaking snow out of his hair as he made his way over to the pair. "Louis, er, mate, we need to go." Harry looked between the two of them, confusion causing his brows to meet. 

"Everything alright? You looked spooked, Liam." 

"Don't worry about it, love," Louis stood up, wrapping the rest of his muffin in the wax paper it came in. "I was just about to excuse myself. Seems Liam and I have a meeting to attend, and I've had completely forgotten it had Liam not come in just now." He kept his eyes level with Liam's. "Thank you for that, Liam."

"Yeah, yeah, sir." Liam adjusted his coat. "Of course." Louis turned to Harry and handed him the wrapped muffin, smiling as he did so. 

"Finish this for me, then?" He pressed it into Harry's hand, winking. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles." His fingertips brushed Harry's wrist before he pulled away. 

"Business as usual, I suppose?" Harry brought the muffin to his chest, his fingers subconsciously brushing the space Louis had touched.

Louis gave a small bow, and grinned at Harry. "Precisely." 

Once the pair exited the shop, Louis turned on Liam with a harsh jerk of his foot. 

"Don't you  _ever_ interrupt me like that again, or I'll have your head on display as a centerpiece at Christmas dinner. You hear me, Liam?" Louis' eyes flashed dangerously. 

"Yes, yes, I understand, but-" 

"Do you know how rude it is? And not just rude, but risky! If Harry knew what we did, what  _I_ did, we'd be better off signing him up for a grave plot in Queens!" 

" _Sir!"_ Liam yelled, cutting off Louis' speech. "I'm sorry, honestly, but it's Malik." 

Louis felt his stomach run cold. "What about him?" Liam led him to the car idling by the curbside, all but pushing Louis inside. 

"He's-He's at the house." 

"He's  _what?_ " Louis yelled. The  _soldato_ driving the car jumped. "Oh, keep your eyes on the road, jackass." He snapped, turning to Liam with an angry expression. "Zayn Malik, head of the Malik family, is at the house? My house, for that matter?" 

"Yes, sir, he is." Liam pushed his hair back with his fingers, frowning with worry. "We don't know how he got there, or how he found it, but he's there." 

"God, he's killed everyone, hasn't he?" Louis groaned, putting his face in his hands. "I should've gone into accounting."

"That's the thing. He, he hasn't killed anybody. In fact, he's only requested tea, and a place to hang his coat." 

"Is Niall with him?" 

"He's the only one I've permitted to be there, sir. All of the  _soldatos_ are manning perimeter. "

"Good," Louis ran both hands down his face and took a deep breath. "When we arrive, I want you following me in.  _In guardia_ , understand?" Liam nodded. "I'll meet with the bastard alone. You outside the door, along with five  _soldatos_. I want Horan, Gresham, Sykes, Ronaldo, and Winston. No less than an M14 rifle on each of them." The car pulled up the long driveway to the Tomlinson manor, and Louis got out as soon as it rolled to a stop. With Liam flanked behind him, he adjusted his suit jacket and tie. Replacing a few hairs into his styled quiff, he strode up the drive with confidence. 

"Boys!" He greeted, his strides long and confident. "Lovely morning, yeah? Love this snow, really. Shaping up to be a white Christmas." He entered the long entryway and shrugged off his coat, handing it to Liam. "Hang this, won't you, Liam? That's a lad, yeah." He placed his hands on the door handles to the grand dining room, where he knew Malik was sitting. With a breath low into his abdomen, he pushed open the doors. 


End file.
